Five Points
by Gip
Summary: When the Italian gangs began to take over the waterfront the Irish jumped to action. Mini wars sprung up over Five Points and even children were being slaughtered.
1. The Irish Mob

It was just after New Years when the first snow fell on New York blanketing it, making the busy city dormant until next spring. It was a late snow, causing the boys to shiver and curse that their luck had finally run out. One boy was used to this, one boy who was quickly becoming a man and had nothing to show for it. It was his sixteenth year and his pockets were still empty, something his father would kill him for.

It had been almost a year since his father died but he was still very much alive in his head. Every wrong move, every penny spent he thought of his father's belt and the scars it had left. When his father died the world did not stop like he wanted it to. The people around him barely blinked as he was buried, New York's underground had no sympathy for the loss of a father.

When they came to New York the summer of his eleventh year, his father promised him and his brother great things. New York meant opportunity and money, something most of the Irish only dreamt about. New York did not turn out as his father promised and after their mother's death the Bronx had lost the little glitter it had. The family of three moved to Five Points; a rough melting pot of culture, interest and crime. A place the government spent a lot of time and effort trying to clear, even though, this was the birthing place of many things… the Irish mob, tap dance and then blending of culture.

The family was accepted and stayed very much emerged in the Irish culture, making them feel like outsiders when they left Five Points. Nearly half of the Irish population still spoke Gaelic as their only language and the crime was an unspeakable thing everyone knew about. Over the years to come his father became more and more involved in the Mob and soon he and his two sons found themselves caught up in it. Their father began small but then worked himself up to a privileged member and helped unite the small Irish gangs around Five Points bringing it to what the Mob was today. Being only children, he and his brother were not trusted with anything more then bet running, but since their mother's death they seemed to have a sense of purpose.

When their father died the others decided that his brother was old enough at eighteen to take his father's spot. He could feel the danger his father had lived with everyday and this was something he did not want for his brother. Gideon had always been softer then his father and him, he was more like his kind hearted mother.

He traveled with Gideon, earning a name for himself. He was Gideon's muscle, but sharp, not just a dumb ape the little ones liked to bring along to do the damage. He was two years younger then Gideon, but he was over 3 inches taller and outweighed him by at least 25 pounds. Gideon was sly, he would give him that. He could talk his way out of most trouble, but because he could barely hold a knife and had never shot a gun he needed his younger brother. He words cut deep and he could spit them out quickly making his reputation grow quickly throughout Five Points.

When the Italian gangs began to take over the waterfront the Irish jumped to action. Mini wars sprung up over Five Points and even children were being slaughtered. It was this night when he was caught off guard as they walked back to their small apartment. Four men came from the shadows vowing to teach them what being Irish would get them. Gideon couldn't talk his way out of this one and found himself in the hospital, but alive. He had been in something the doctors called a coma for the last week until today when he shifted.

"Aidan Mcfee?" A gentle voice asked. Aidan looked up to see a young doctor standing in front of him.

"Yes?" he asked standing up nervously.

"Your brother's awake…" he started. "He took a tremendous blow to the head and I know I already told you of the complications that could result," He paused.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"His eyes are unresponsive…"

"You mean he's blind?" Aidan cut in quickly.

"Yes…" the doctor said and looked at his chart. "The level of unresponsiveness is alerting…"

"What does that mean? I'm not a doctor just tell me what the hell that means," Aidan asked his breath picking up, he knew what it meant… he was just hoping the doctor could tell him anything other then what he knew in his heart.

"It's permanent,"


	2. Beyond Repair

Translations:

Deartháir… tá súilaithne agam ort Brother… I know you can

Go gcoinní Dia i mbosa a láimhe thú. May God hold you in the palm of his hand.

Beyond Repair

"Giddy get up… Giddy, get up," Aidan repeated from the other side of the door. He knocked again, still no answer. "Listen you stubborn Irish bastard, you've been in this God Damned room for near a month now… get up!" he bellowed at the door trying to reason with him. Aidan listened at the door… still nothing, just the sound of his older brother repositioning himself on the bed. "Deartháir…tá súilaithne agam ort" He said softly resting his forehead on the door.

It is hard to give up on ones brother. Ever since the 'accident', as the others calls it, Aidan was at Gideon's door asking him to come out every morning. One would even say begging- if they did not know him better. Ever since Aidan was younger he seemed to depend on Gideon, even if it was a silent dependency. No matter how long the door would be closed or how long his brother would sulk Aidan would not rest. It was his fault his brother was blind. He should have stopped them; he should have made sure they were home earlier. He didn't, and now he was forced to pay the consequences… a blind brother who was stubborn as a mule, with words that could kick like one also.

"I brought you breakfast," he said then headed down the hallway leaving the tray of cold oatmeal by the door.

"Aidan…. c'mere boy," Mike McGloin called to him when he walked down the stairs. Mike McGloin- he was a dangerous man. He would stab a man in the eye just for looking at him. Aidan let go of the door handle and walked over to the table he was playing poker at and cleared his throat. Mike glanced up then smirked back down at his hand. "He eating today?" he asked from around a cigar stub clenched in his teeth.  
"I don't know, Sir," Aidan said trying to sound less concerned then he was.

"Well… it's hard on him." He said. "My pap was blind towards the end…and he was a stubborn ol' git 'til the day I killed him," he said, his Wexford accent coming out more when he talked of the old man. "Go gcoinní Dia i mbosa a láimhe thú…" Mike said taking a hold of his cross necklace. He gave it a small kiss then looked up the heavens to bless his father.

Mike played his hand and smirked that he had won again; he knew all the men were letting him win but that's how the game is played. He was the best. "I need you to do something for me today Mcfee," Mike said not looking up as he collected his earnings and shoved them in his pocket. He got up and put his hand on Aidan's back walking with him towards the front door. "There is a man by the name of Shooter Fallon…"

"Shooter?" Aidan asked he knew that name. Everyone in Manhattan knew that name.

"Yes, do I have a stutter? Shooter- Shooter!" Mike snapped then clapped a hand on his back again. "I need you to go to him and give him a message."

"That's Gid-

"- Must you back talk everything I ask?"  
"Sorry Sir," Aidan said quickly and looked away from the older man in front of him.

Mike grinned again and took an envelope out of his vest handing it to him. "I wouldn't let me own Mother read that note- you got me?" he asked raising an eyebrow.

Aidan nodded once and tucked it in his vest.

"I asked you a question,"

"I heard you," Aidan said pulling the door open and walking out. Mike stood there for a few moments after the door had slammed in his face. "Did you see that boys? No one slams a door in my face accept for him. A boy has more balls then the miscreants' of New York," he chuckled and walked towards the kitchen liking the fire in Aidan when he was hurting. Imagine what he would be able to do when he was hurt beyond repair.


End file.
